


Tale of a Night

by LastOneFromHometown



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Fluff, Human, Human AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastOneFromHometown/pseuds/LastOneFromHometown
Summary: Marceline and Bonnie are out at a party. All they want to do is hang out with each other, but things keep getting in the way. AU
Relationships: Princess Bubblegum & Marceline, Princess Bubblegum/Marceline, marceline - Relationship
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

A hot summer evening. No matter how much Bonnie begged her to, Marceline refused to wear a jacket when she biked around. It suffocated her. What Marceline loved about driving her motorcycle were the unbearably hot days in summer, the wind rippling her clothes and the concrete of the country lanes glimmering like the surface of water, or like now; later, the light golden, the clouds candy-floss pink and cadmium orange. With the breeze it was just about bearable to be outside. It made Marceline feel like she could live forever.

But she had to come to a stop. Eleanor Scott-Parker’s family mansion in the middle of absolutely nowhere, England. An old Hanoverian country house with modern extensions and enormous windows, gardens, expensive cars, swimming pools, horses, fountains. The only reason Eleanor ever went to Marceline’s school was because she got kicked out of whatever posh boarding school her parents had shipped her off to in France. Marceline didn’t know what for. Eleanor hardly ever told the truth, especially if the truth made her look bad.

‘Party of the year,’ Eleanor had said. She had invited so many people that she had to send out a group email. ‘My house, last Saturday before the summer holidays. Show up at eight, bring as much alcohol as you can.’

Marceline was less than thrilled about the prospects of the night ahead of her, but Bonnie had convinced her to turn up. When Bonnie said she wanted to go together Marceline hadn’t had much of a choice anymore. Not only was Bonnibel a steadfast force for authority, Marceline was having an increasingly hard time saying no to her. She retaliated mostly through the artform of minor inconveniences, such as showing up late.

The party had already started. There was music coming from somewhere, empty cans littering the gravel driveway, kids out the front of the house and poking their heads out of windows upstairs to smoke, people dancing, people crying, people gawping listlessly at their phones. Marceline hid her bike between some bushes where no one would try to mess with it, took a deep breath and ventured inside.

She found Bonnie immediately. At first Bonnie didn’t spot her. Marceline had this strange feeling about seeing her without being seen in return, where she was aware Bonnie existed but not noticed in return. The anonymity hurt. Marceline craved being known by Bonnie more than she wanted to be known by anyone else.

When Bonnie did see her, her eyes lit up. Marceline couldn’t help but smile back.

‘You came!’ Bonnie said. 

‘Of course I did, brainlord. I couldn’t let you have all the fun on your own.’

‘You want a drink, Abadeer?’ Finn yelled from across the room.

‘I’m good, thanks,’ Marceline yelled back.

‘Not drinking?’ Bonnie asked. She had a cup in her hand but it looked and smelt like pink lemonade.

‘I can make an easy escape if I’m totally sober. If I’m drunk, I’m stuck here,’ Marceline said with a cautious glance around the room.

‘Smart. But promise you’ll try to have fun?’

‘I can’t make any promises.’

‘Hey Bonnie!’ It was Lady, poking her head in through the window. There was a half-empty bottle of vodka in her hand. ‘Get out here now! I’ve got something to show you!’

‘Oh God,’ Bonnie said. ‘Coming!’

‘I’m going to use the bathroom before it gets hot-boxed. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.’

‘Cool. Don’t be too long. I like your earrings by the way.’ She reached up and played with the guitar picks Marceline had drawn an ‘M’ onto and made into earrings, brushing her fingertips over her neck. Marceline tried not to explode. 

‘Um, thanks.’

They pushed their way through the dense array of party guests then went separate ways down the corridor. Marceline couldn’t help but look back at Bonnie, and to her immense surprise she saw Bonnie looking back at her. She went bright red and turned around again. Still distracted by Bonnie walking away, Marceline walked herself into wall.

There were these unbearable moments between her and Bonnie where it felt like there was something more going on. Like they shared an unspoken understanding that couldn’t be voiced. It lay just under the surface, just out of view. The feeling of being so close to an epiphany with it constantly alluding you. There was more to life than what it was, Marceline _knew_ it. She just had to find it. For all she knew, it was hidden somewhere in Eleanor’s house.

Eleanor’s house was a patch-work maze of old and new. Ancient stone floors here, original oak beams there, with abrupt transitions to 21st century interior of sleek surfaces, expensive materials, and slightly unsettling mood lighting that Eleanor had set to purple. Marceline had absolutely no clue where the bathroom was. She was beginning to wonder if Eleanor and the rest of the Scott-Parkers were biologically capable of shitting.

Navigating through the twisting hallways and… confusing layout, Marceline found Eleanor alone in what was either someone’s alchemy lab or a ten-year-old boy’s bedroom. Maybe both, though she thought Eleanor was an only child. ‘Hey, Scott-Pilgrim,’ she called out.

‘ _Go away!’_ Eleanor bawled. Oh great, Marceline thought, She’s crying. Eleanor’s face was tomato-red, her mascara had run, and her lipstick was smudged all over her hands and the shredded tissues she had wiped her face on. She had been crying _hard._ On the floor was a small bouquet of ruined roses that looked like the remains of a bird ravaged by a house cat.

‘Ok, I’m going. But where’s your toilet?’ Marceline asked. She wasn’t exactly up to dealing with this right now. She wanted to hang out with Bonnie and laugh at all her stupid-drunk friends.

‘Do you know what he did? _Do you know what he did?’_ Eleanor wailed. Marceline looked sheepishly at the door. ‘He dumped me at _my own party!’_

Marceline felt a little lost. ‘Who? Brad? I thought you broke up like a month ago?’

‘Yeah but we got back together! He begged for me back, it was totally romantic. But now he’s dumped for that ugly bitch Melissa! _’_ Eleanor sobbed. ‘I just wanted to have fun at my own party. This was meant to be _the_ party. But now it’s ruined.’

‘People are having fun. I think.’ It certainly sounded like it from the noise going on outside and the amount of mess that had already been created. It was impressive even for a hundred or more teenagers. ‘Dude, where’s your bathroom?’

‘But I’m _not_ having fun! Marceline, you have to help me have fun tonight. I’m not leaving your side until we have fun together,’ Eleanor declared. She leapt up, still crying, and latched onto Marceline’s arm.

Marceline sighed. ‘What kind of fun?’

‘Your kind of fun. Bad fun,’ she sniffled, looking up at her with adoring, watery eyes. ‘Like after the first’s team lost the final and you wrapped the other team’s coach up in tin foil? Or when you set Ryan Farmer on fire in Chemistry because he had sent unsolicited dick pics to some girls in the year below and the teachers wouldn’t do anything about it? Or at sports’ day last month when you glued the gross old mascot suit onto the Head Boy and he pissed himself in it then the fire station had to come down and cut him out. That kind of fun.’

Bad fun, Marceline thought to herself.

‘Let me pee first and I’ll come up with a plan.’

‘Can I come with you?’

‘Absolutely not. You can wait outside. Are you drunk?’

‘I wish,’ Eleanor groaned. ‘But I can’t drink now. I’ll just get sadder.’

With so many drunk people around and so much space, the possibilities were close to endless. She thought of telling Bonnie, but she was outside having fun with Lady and the others. Bonnie might try and take over, or be too rational and reasonable about things—maybe she’d even calm Eleanor down just by _talking_ to her. But Marceline didn’t want to interrupt.

Eleanor was waiting outside the bathroom door as promised. ‘I had a thought.’

‘Wow, I’m impressed,’ Marceline said.

‘Piss off, Abadeer. Lydia Jessop and her horse-girl friends RSVP’d _no_ to my invite.’ Eleanor was visibly furious: fists clenched, knuckles white, her eyes feral with the mess of the makeup, the lipstick resembling blood smears on her face as if she had been in a fight. ‘They, like, could have just not RSVP’d at all. Why would they RSVP no? I can tell you because they _told me_ why! Take a look at this. The _nerve_. But whatever, it’s their loss.’

Eleanor shoved her phone in Marceline’s face. Right then, a boy rushed past them into the bathroom and threw up in the bath. Delightful. His friends followed in after, cheering him on.

There was a screenshot of an email on Eleanor’s screen from Lydia Jessop, the girl who lived in the mansion next door to Eleanor.

“I politely RSVP **no** to your invite. Patricia, Jemima and I are having a camping sleepover in my garden and will enjoy it much more than any sort of drunken soiree you’re planning. Sweetly, Lydia <3.”

‘She’s not sweet at all. She’s bitter. If she were a sweet, she’d be liquorice, or raw cauliflower,’ Eleanor seethed. Marceline wondered if Eleanor knew cauliflower wasn’t really a sweet but decided against it in the interest of time and the illusion of any kind of self-esteem Eleanor might have left. ‘Let’s scare them. That’ll make me feel better. You’re good at scaring people, right?’

Marceline smiled a devilish smile. ‘The best.’


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a while outside with Lady and Marceline still hadn’t appeared. Bonnie was sitting in a circle with her drunken friends playing odds on, but the odds were always something ridiculous like licking someone’s ear or consuming more alcohol in the most convoluted way possible. Someone had even brought clippers, resulting in one boy getting a monk haircut. There was hair all over the grass now. No one seemed to care.

Bonnie didn’t get dared to do anything. Drunk people were extremely predictable, and picked one of the same two or three numbers every time. As long as Bonnie kept track of who said which numbers and in what order, which she could, there were extremely slim chances she’d actually have to do anything, giving the impression she wanted to take part. She sat and observed the chaos everyone else was so fond of making.

After all, parties like these fascinated Bonnie. Scenes rose and fall, one after another and sometimes at the same time. The most unlikeliest things could happen: sudden unpredicted outbursts, clumsy mistakes made by fogged-up brains with wobbly bodies. It was incredible to watch. People doing things for no apparent reason, their inhibitions gone and their judgement clouded. Dancing even though they can’t dance, singing even though they can’t sing. Telling each other how they feel.

‘Do you want a drink, Bonnie?’ Lady asked.

‘No, I’m good. I’ve got to… write a report tomorrow.’ Wow, lying was hard. Lady probably knew it was a lie, too and just let her get away with it. Bonnie couldn’t drink from fear of ending up like everyone else: confessing their feelings in the heat of the moment and forgetting about it by the morning so you can be humiliated _twice._ Checking your phone in the morning to stumble upon blurry flash photographs of you passed out on the floor and five missed calls with some drunken voicemails of your friends singing old pop songs. Bonnie hated it when she lost control.

Plus, Marceline wasn’t drinking. It would be weird if one of them was drunk and the other wasn’t. How could she control herself then? It was hard enough keeping her hands off Marceline.

‘What’s wrong?’ Lady asked.

‘Oh, it’s nothing. I think I’m going to head inside for a bit. I’ll see you later. Text me if you need me,’ she said, then stood up and left the circle before she had to witness the next absurd dare.

Bonnie walked around looking for Marceline.

She went to the pool first. Not because Marceline liked swimming, but because she liked pushing people in. Bonnie was careful not to get too close to the edge in case Marceline was waiting for her in the shadows. The big blue pool shone rippling light upwards as the world got darker and darker. Evenings like this that made the world feel seconds away from disaster.

But Marceline wasn’t there, so Bonnie went inside. She poked her head in the bathroom, but it was full of people either being sick in the bath or peeing and none of them were Marceline. Bonnie checked a bunch of darker, quieter rooms but Marceline wasn’t hiding in any of those either. Only some scary paintings and slightly-too-phallic sculptures.

Slightly nervously, Bonnie explored upstairs. It was even harder to navigate than the ground floor, especially with the corridors left unlit. ‘Marcy?’ she called. She dreaded to think she had come up here with anyone. That would be awkward.

Carefully she pushed open the door to a small spare bedroom. Thick, strong-smelling smoke wafted out at her.

‘Woah, Bonnie, shut the door!’ Finn said. Bonnie stepped inside and slammed the door behind her. In the room sat Finn and Phoebe, a single candle between them. They were both sleepy-eyed and speaking very slowly, exaggeratedly, like they had all the time in the universe to explain the English language and then the meaning of life to a jellyfish.

‘Sorry, am I intruding?’ Bonnie asked. She held her hand to her face, adamant the smoke didn’t get to her.

‘No, not at all,’ Phoebe said, grinning. ‘Want to join us?’

‘I’m good. I’m looking for Marcy, have you seen her?’ Bonnie asked.

Finn and Phoebe thought really hard for at least a minute. ‘No,’ they both said.

‘Well thanks anyway,’ Bonnie sighed, and turned back to the door.

‘Bonnie, wait!’ Finn said. ‘You should know… something important… I have discovered… it’s not scientific but Bonnie… if it’s like that… then it’s _like that_. Sometimes things go good, other times they don’t go good… but if you’re feeling it… someone else is feeling it too. We’re all connected. Deep down… we’re all the same.’

‘Yeah! You’re so, like… right, Finn!’ Phoebe said. It was strangely profound, especially for Finn. That meant that it was probably time to leave and move on to the next scene of the night.

‘Ok. Thanks guys,’ Bonnie said.

She went downstairs and investigated the kitchen, no longer overcrowded. It looked like a nightmare: empty glasses, bottles, cans everywhere. Dirty plates, discarded jumpers and shoes and socks, wet towels, food packets, unnameable filth. Bonnie resisted the urge to clean any of it. She knew Eleanor would just call a cleaning service in the morning.

This is exhausting, she thought. And it was only quarter-to-ten.

Jake had cleared a little space on the granite counter for a chopping board. He was surrounded by ingredients ransacked from the Scott-Parkers’ shelves and fridges: onions, cheese, pickles, chicken, salami, jalapenos, pastrami, rocket, mayonnaise, you name it. Anything you could conceivably think to put in a sandwich: he had it. Or at least, the Scott-Parkers had it.

‘Hey Jake,’ Bonnie said. Jake almost leapt out of his skin.

‘Oh my _God¸_ Bonnie. I’m holding a knife. Don’t creep up on someone with a knife!’ he might have come across as concerned if he wasn’t wearing such a goofy smile all the time.

‘What are you doing?’ she said, crossing the polished marble floor of the kitchen, picking her way between splatters of ketchup and puddles of spilled beer. One corner had been fenced off with chairs where someone had broken a glass but not been bothered to clean it up. Bonnie tried not to think about it too hard. It would give her a headache.

‘I’m making the perfect sandwich ever. In the nicest possible way, please don’t talk to me. I have to focus.’

‘Have you seen Marcy?’

‘Have you lost your vampire girlfriend?’

‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ Bonnie said. She wasn’t very good at being sarcastic, or sounding mean. After all, that was Marceline’s thing. ‘And she’s not a vampire.’

Jake mocked her with an exaggerated falsetto voice and talking motions with his hands. For an almost fully-grown man, he invariably acted like a 13-year-old who thought the world hated him because he was born too late to go and see My Chemical Romance in concert.

One hand was Bonnie, the other was Marceline. ‘ _Marcy, Marcy I love you Marcy, Marcy let’s do chemistry homework and make out_ ,’ went Bonnie the Hand. He made his sock-puppet hands kiss. Bonnie pretended it wasn’t embarrassing. Thank _God_ no one else was around.

‘Bonnie! Jake! What are you two doing?’ Lady staggered in and climbed up onto the island counter, brushing off a bunch of cans onto the floor.

‘I’m making a killer sandwich and making Bonnie go red,’ Jake said.

‘How?’

‘I’m leaving. Bye,’ Bonnie said. She couldn’t take much more of this. Jake was just playing around, but thinking too hard about Marceline like that made her unbearably nervous. Bonnie just wasn’t _like that._ She didn’t get attached to people in that way, that was her whole thing.

‘Bonnie wait, the sandwich is almost done! I want you to film me eating it. I want to remember this forever,’ Jake said.

‘If you want,’ Bonnie grumbled. She wanted to spend the evening with Marceline. It was the whole reason she had invited her there. Marceline was funny and confident in a way Bonnie just wasn’t. It never felt right to admit to her friends, but things just didn’t seem worth it when Marceline wasn’t around.

Extremely dramatically, Jake sized up the sub in front of his mouth. He stretched his lips open as wide as they could go (which was quite wide, Bonnie had to admit) as if he were a monster with four jaws and a thousand teeth. Lady lovingly cheered him on as he manoeuvred the sandwich ever closer to the black pit of its demise. He was Jake, consumer of sandwiches, scourge of sandwich-kind, destroyer of sandwich-worlds. They could make at least two mediocre Hollywood blockbusters about him.

Suddenly, a boy ran through the kitchen. All Bonnie saw was a yellow jacket as he dashed towards Jake. It was as if a slightly camp lightning bolt had shot through the kitchen, come to strike the sandwich. Jake was completely vulnerable. By the time the boy had his hands on the sandwich it was too late. Jake stood there, robbed, heartbroken.

‘No!’ he cried. It was like the death of his own child. The boy in the yellow ran back outside, cackling, into the dark. He disappeared with the sandwich.

‘Hey, dingdong!’ Bonnie yelled. She dropped the phone on the counter and darted through the back door after the sandwich thief. Jake followed closely behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

‘So are you and Bonnibel like, a couple or what?’ Eleanor asked.

Marceline was lucky it was dark because she went bright red. ‘What? No, ew! Gross, dude.’

‘As an actress,’ Eleanor said, ‘I can tell when someone’s a bad liar. You _like_ her Abadeer.’

‘I do not!’

They were traipsing through one of Eleanor’s fields where Eleanor claimed they could get into the Jessops’ garden. It was almost completely dark. Perfect for Marceline’s plan. With them they had two torches, two old Halloween masks, some of Brad’s huge baggy t-shirts Eleanor had ‘borrowed’ from him, a bunch of ketchup and some knife props made out of foam that Eleanor had stolen from the drama department, all in a hold-all over Marceline’s shoulder.

‘Well, just saying, I’m an expert when it comes to relationships. Bonnie’s totally into you,’ Eleanor said.

Before they climbed over a fence onto the Jessops’ garden, they dressed themselves in Brad’s t-shirts and the Halloween masks. From the Jessops’ side of the fence the top of the sleepover tent was visible, warm orange lights casting strange elongated shadows from the inside.

‘That’s not true,’ Marceline scoffed. ‘Do you want my help with this or not?’

‘Fine, fine! Suppress your feelings, Abadeer, stare into the void. It’s all the same to me. Let’s just ruin Jessop’s night already.’ With that, Eleanor finally shut up.

Stealthily, they approached the tent. Marceline wasn’t sure if she had ever heard Eleanor be so quiet for so long. She must have been _really_ mad about that RSVP.

Lydia Jessop’s voice came from inside, sickening and saccharine: ‘I can’t believe Scott-Parker’s making so much noise. I might have to have daddy give her parents a ring.’

Marceline watched Eleanor twitch with rage. It almost funny enough to make up for missing Bonnie.

‘Did you hear,’ said Jemima Foxglove, ‘that she broke up with that oaf Brad Cummings again?’

‘You missed out the best part!’ shrieked Patricia Highgrove, ‘ _he_ dumped _her_! Just imagine what that was like for poor Scott-Parker. Getting dumped by a boy built like your grandmother’s armoire.’

They all erupted in their shrill, metallic laughter, like the sound birds make at four AM in the morning. Marceline gave Eleanor a decisive nod. Now was the perfect time.

The girls’ laughter halted abruptly. Marceline shook the tent on one side, Eleanor flashed the torchlight at the other. Then they stopped. And waited. Marceline could practically hear their breath caught in their throats, their hearts pounding that little bit harder.

Then came the flash, a horrifying silhouette, a twisted, ghostly, figure clutching two knives and lurching superimposed on the wall of the tent. Marceline forced out the most hideous noise she could manage from her throat and followed it up with a burp. Sweet red blood splattered the wall of the tent. The silhouette fell, and the girls were left waiting again. It was a while before anyone moved.

‘It’s probably just my little brothers,’ Lydia whispered. She was trying to sound brave. Marceline wouldn’t have it. She watched as her shadow got up and approached the door. Eleanor was frantically beckoned to. They rushed towards the tent, hiding at its sides, ketchup bottles in hand with the safety off.

‘Teddy? Hugo? I know you’re there. It’s not funny. I’ll tell daddy!’ Lydia called. There was a waver in her voice. She waited for her brothers to appear from the murky darkness of the field, but there was no movement at all.

From the nearest tree came an owl hoot. Lydia was transfixed by it. This was her moment of weakness, her fatal flaw. She had brought her punishment upon herself.

Marceline and Eleanor leapt out from their hiding spots, waving knives in the air, covering Lydia in ketchup. It shot upwards in crazed red arches and rained back down again. Lydia screamed and screamed. She threw herself back inside the tent, drenched in red, sticky sauce and sobbing like a baby.

Cackling, Marceline and Eleanor covered the rest of the tent with the remaining then legged it back out of the field, tearing off their masks as they ran. They hurled themselves back over the fence and rushed towards the house. At last they stopped, hiding behind a large fir tree and gasping for breath, giddy with the thrill of escape.

‘Hey, Scott-Pilgrim, you’re not so bad at that,’ Marceline said, licking the ketchup off her fingers.

‘I know,’ she replied, ‘I’ve _got_ to do that more often.’ Eleanor was quiet again, and what she said next suggested she had been reflecting on her actions. Wonders never seemed to cease. ‘It doesn’t make us bad people though, does it?’

Marceline thought about it. ‘No, I don’t think so. Good people do bad things sometimes, and bad people do good things. I think you’re a good person.’

‘I think you’re a good person, too.’

They peeled off the ketchup-covered t-shirts and the masks and threw them back into the bag.

‘What do we do with this now?’ Eleanor asked.

‘I don’t know. Leave it in Brad’s car?’

‘You’re a smart girl, Abadeer, you just look stupid ‘cause you’re always with Bonnibel.’ Coming from Eleanor, Marceline wasn’t sure how great of a compliment that was. They headed back towards the house, where Eleanor no doubt had a spare set of keys to Brad’s beaten-up old Honda. A quick glance behind them showed they weren’t being followed. Not yet, anyway.

Marceline was thinking about Bonnie again, about how she would tell her what they had done. She thought about the way Bonnie’s eyes looked when she was listening, _really_ listening to her, and how she took the things she said to heart. She thought about the look Bonnie got on her face when she was trying to be disproving of whatever irresponsible game Marceline had come up with. Marceline got in trouble as if out of habit. For whatever reason, Bonnie liked her anyway.

‘Hey, Eleanor, can I ask you something?’ Marceline said. They stopped again in the cover of the willow tree; Marceline was reluctant to have anyone else hear their conversation.

‘Look, Abadeer, this was fun, but I don’t want to go on a date with you. I just broke up with Brad and I just don’t see you that way. I’m sorry,’ Eleanor said.

‘Um?’

‘Is there anything else?’

Marceline sighed. She wasn’t used to asking for help, especially from Eleanor. ‘How do you know if you’re into someone?’

‘Easy,’ Eleanor said. ‘You just know.’ That wasn’t particularly helpful. ‘If you think you like them chances are you like them. Don’t be ashamed of having feelings. I get it, don’t worry. A hot piece of ass like me is hard to resist.’

‘Eleanor—I,’ Marceline took a deep breath, ‘never mind. Thank you.’

‘It’s okay, hon. There’s someone out there for you. It’s just not me.’

They finally got back to the house. Eleanor went off on a quest for Brad’s car keys. Marceline snuck away from her as soon as possible. If she could find her in these massive grounds, she could _finally_ hang out with Bonnie tonight.

She looked up at the house, solid and dark against the faint blue of the night sky. Bonnie could be anywhere inside. Little yellow squares showed up in the window frames, shadows of people reaching out of them or cast across blinds and curtains. It was hard to imagine that those people were people, as feeling and as real as Marceline herself. That they weren’t just a space that the lamplight couldn’t get to, that they had hearts and minds Marceline would never really know. Outbursts of laughter or raised voices came from them but it was all background noise to her. None of this would last very long. Soon their ghosts would be gone, and she would forget them. There would be nothing left but the decimated leaves covering the ground in autumn, dull testimonies to the colours the trees were in the heat.

Bonnie resurface in her train of thought. It ached in Marceline’s chest when she wondered if she might one day forget Bonnie. She wanted to know Bonnie better than anyone else. Not so she could predict her every move, but so she could understand her, like the sun understands the moon. Marceline had to accept it. As much as she hated Eleanor being right: she liked Bonnie. It wasn’t worth hiding from herself anymore.

The realisation hit Marceline like a truck. This was her epiphany. It stood illuminated by bare lightbulbs from the high windows of the house. This was the answer to the dull emptiness that slept under everything she did. There was nothing stopping her, not anymore. Time was running out.

Marceline knew she had to tell her.


	4. Chapter 4

Bonnie leapt through the back door after the sandwich swiper. Weaving past confusing huddles of people standing up, shifting, blacked out and folded up in the recovery position across the striped lawns, she chased the boy in the yellow jacket around the house and back in through an open window. Jake caught up with her as she pushed through a busy room, the thief darting just in front of every obstacle. Jake staggered over a dining table, destroyed a game of beer pong to the annoyance of absolutely everyone, then lunged up the stairs. The thief sprinted in circles around the mis-matched rooms and corridors of the house, as if leaping around through time. He jumped down another flight of stairs. Jake thundered after him, yelling, throwing himself into every room. Bonnie was careful and tried to cut the thief off but there was always an escape to be found. Finally, the thief evaded them into the Scott-Parkers’ library. There was only one way in, and one way out.

‘We’ve got you, give back the sandwich!’ Bonnie demanded. Leaving Jake at the door, she stalked up the gloomy aisles of bookshelves filled with books that have never been touched, let alone read. She held her breath, listening for the sandwich thief’s footfalls on the dusty carpet, for the rustle of his coat, for the tremble of his breath. Any human features he had left would be his downfall.

‘If you eat it I’ll kill you!’ Jake cried.

From the central aisle, Bonnie heard a sudden giggling. Girlish and silly, like the laughter of someone sick enough to steal a sandwich from Jake the eater of sandwiches. He had poured his heart and soul into that sub. It was the coup de grace to the struggles of mankind against the world of eating bland, boring ham sandwiches with the crusts cut off.

‘Jake, here!’ she yelled, leaping into the central row. Jake blocked the other end. The thief was cut off; unable to escape. The whites of his eyes gleaming like the bared teeth of a wolf, Jake shone his phone torch on the culprit and—

It was two kids, half dressed. A shirt discarded on the floor; a belt already unbuckled. One of them had a fresh bruise on their neck. Their limbs were tangled together so you couldn’t tell whose arm or leg belonged to who. They were sweaty, faces flushed, squinting at them in a daze.

‘Oops. Sorry, guys. Pretend this didn’t happen,’ Jake said.

A flurry of movement came from the final set of bookshelves. The true thief snickered, cold and empty, pleased with his mischief. Bonnie saw the window slide open and dashed to it. It was too late. The sandwich thief was gone.

‘I’ll get you! You’ll never escape me!’ Jake bellowed. His voice died out in the darkness outside. They had lost the trail. Together they stood at the window, hands pressing on the sill, surveying the rich flowerbeds in the moonlit garden. Bonnie could almost imagine for a second that they were the lord and lady of the house: rich, well-connected, begrudgingly married. It was almost funny. The world of adults was only in books and films for Bonnie, a strange fantasy of the future. It never felt like it would be real life.

Jake was crying. ‘There, there. It’ll be okay,’ Bonnie said. It wasn’t really true, because she knew Jake’s sandwich was likely gone forever and there were extremely low chances of him ever recreating the success of his magnum opus. Really good things were so rare that they only seemed to happen once. 

Out of nowhere Jake spoke. ‘Do you think we’ll just forget all of this when we go to university? All our friends, all these parties, Lady, all the things I like to think about in my life. What if I just forget them all?’

‘Don’t think about the future,’ she said. It was stupid because she was thinking about her future right then. The future was all they were told to think about. It was school, university, jobs, marriage, kids, divorce, jobs, pension, death. And it was hard to think about, too. It didn’t sound very exciting. It even sounded sad. Bonnie and Jake both knew that these days they lived and breathed right then might be the days they look back on and miss the most, the days they still waited for life to start. That was stupid too.

It all hurt to think about. It really hurt. Who knows what they would lose, _who_ they would lose between now and then? Bonnie looked at Jake and realised that one day she would see him and then never see him again. It made her want to cry.

Jake broke the overwhelming emptiness of the silence at last. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’

Defeated and sandwich-less, Jake retreated to the kitchen to sob to Lady. Bonnie wished him the best then climbed out through the window into the garden. Night air blew into her face carrying the sickly smell of roses and the pangs of premature grief released her gut. She distracted herself with something else. Distracting from the big, bad truth that there was nothing more to life than what she saw in front of her.

There was no trace of the thief anywhere. It was as if he had balled himself up in his yellow coat and vanished into nothing.

‘What a pleasant surprise,’ said Peter. Bonnie was shocked to find she was not alone. He was slumped in patch of dead flowers, alone, smoking tobacco out of a glass pipe. Bonnie thought of asking him why he would come to a party like this if he just wanted to sit alone and blow smoke rings but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer. Peter didn’t care much for other people, though he mostly seemed to appreciate Bonnie’s company.

‘Did you see which way that dingweed went?’ Bonnie asked.

‘Is something bothering you?’ Peter replied with a question of his own.

‘Yeah that guy stole Jake’s sandwich,’ she replied.

‘No, not that. There’s something on your mind,’ he informed her.

Peter was right. Even with everything going on, Bonnie was still missing Marceline. That was the big distraction. Bonnie’s mind hesitated on the L word, and it wasn’t lesbians. Suddenly she was worried Marceline had got bored and left or gone off with someone else more fun and interesting than her. It was getting later and later, soon the party would wind down because people were too drunk and sick and had to go home and Bonnie wouldn’t have spent any of it with Marceline. Time was slipping away with the wheeling of the stars.

‘I don’t know _why_ I want her attention so badly!’ Bonnie seethed, ‘I don’t want anyone else’s attention, or anyone else’s approval. It’s so frustrating, it’s like I’m obsessed with her or something but I’m not, _I’m not_ obsessed with her. That would be weird.’

‘Um, Bonnibel—,’

‘She’s so infuriating, don’t you think? She’s always winding me up, she’s always getting in my way, but I don’t even _care._ I want her to distract me. I got eighty-nine percent on a physics test the other day because she came over the day I planned to revise. Do you know when the last time I got as lower than ninety?’

‘Never?’

‘Not since I was twelve and I had bronchitis! Not since I was practically a _child,_ Peter. She’s driving me insane. Are friends meant to drive you insane?’ Bonnie swiped through Peter’s smoke rings. The music and the shouting and the and the laughing and dancing was going on elsewhere, barely within earshot, a totally separate timeline through a portal in the mirror. Peter shifted in his bed of rotting petals and leaves.

‘Bonnie, do you think that maybe—,’

Bonnie’s mouth fell open. Her heart beat faster, all the anger rushed out of her brain and cool water rushed in, clearing her mind, soothing her. ‘Oh my God! Peter you’re right. Peter how could I let this happen?’

‘You can’t always control your feelings, Bonnie,’ he told her.

‘Yeah but I can at least _try_. This is a disaster. What if she finds out? What if she doesn’t want to be friends anymore? What if she thinks I’m weird?’

Peter sighed and got up from his resting place. ‘You’re so oblivious,’ he said. He left Bonnie standing amongst the towering hollyhocks and the blooming geraniums that only looked grey and blue in the pale light. Bonnie wondered what colours they really were but didn’t think to shine a light on them. The mystery was sweeter to think about.

‘Practicing botany, brainlord?’

‘Marcy! There you are!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Will post last two chapters next week.


	5. Chapter 5

_Marcy._ No one else got to call Marceline Marcy. No one else could without her threatening to out their throats and drink their blood, although Marceline was trying to get better at ‘employing more diplomatic methods when confronting others’ or whatever Bonnie would say. It was only Bonnie that could call her Marcy.

‘Where did you go? I’ve been looking for you for ages,’ Bonnie said. Marceline approached her softly between the flowerbeds, Bonnie playing with the velvet of a mint leaf between her fingers. Something felt different. The wind had changed.

‘You won’t believe this. I had fun with Scott-Pilgrim,’ Marceline said, and proceeded to recite the whole story in detail, leaving out the embarrassing bit about her feelings by the willow tree.

‘You won’t believe this either,’ Bonnie returned, ‘someone stole this amazing sandwich Jake made and—!’

A shrill and mocking ‘Yoo-hoo!’ came from through the trimmed hedges. Marceline watched Bonnie’s eyes narrow. Like a hawk spotting prey.

‘It’s _him_ ,’ she growled. Bonnie sprinted over the flowerbeds towards the iron gate in the hedges and pushed her way through. The gate screeched in agony on its hinges. Marceline cringed.

‘Bonnie, wait!’ she called. Bonnie was unexpectedly fast, chasing the boy over the flagstones towards the horses’ paddock. Marceline chased her in turn.

But Bonnie had lost the thief again. She stood with her head down, sulking in defeat. Probably plotting her revenge. It was high time Marceline got to mess with her. ‘ _Bonnibel! I’m going to kiiiiiill yooooou!’_ she wailed in the worst Dracula voice possible, brandishing her hands over her head like claws. Bonnie was unreceptive to this game and moped away towards a fountain, trampling on the thistles surrounding it. Marceline didn’t give up. She was determined to put Bonnie in a better mood. 

The fountain between them trickled away in the moonlight, barely visible, its once pale stone surfaces caked in lichens and moss. Some corners of the stonework had been chipped off and the chiselled edges had been worn away by the water and the rain. Years ago it had probably been beautiful, clean crystal waters babbling away in the sunlight. Now it stood in the colourless shadow of night. Forgotten.

‘Stop it, Marcy! It’s not funny!’ Bonnie complained. But it was funny. When Marceline caught up to her Bonnie just ran faster, around and around in circles, neither of them escaping or catching up to the other. They were both laughing, and laughing more and more until they couldn’t run anymore because the laughter hurt too much. Bonnie stopped running and Marceline closed her arms around her, catching her at last.

‘ _Yoooooou will neverrrrrr escaaaaaape!’_ Marceline howled. If she could have her way, she would never let Bonnie escape. Being with Bonnie was the thing she looked forward to whenever she was doing something else. It was the only way Marceline wanted to spend her time.

But eventually life got in the way again. Marceline had to let Bonnie go. They sat down together on the edge of the fountain, Bonnie brushing the top of the water with her fingers, Marceline watching her.

‘Are you having fun tonight?’ Bonnie asked.

‘I am now,’ Marceline replied. ‘Are you?’

Bonnie nodded and looked back down into the fountain. Her expression was calm, strands of loose hair fell over it, her cheeks were flushed from running. Marceline could see her whole body relax. She got so much enjoyment from spotting the little things about Bonnie, the tiniest things, the ugliest things and the prettiest things. Marceline had never felt so close to anyone in her life.

‘I’m glad I get to goof around with you, Marcy,’ Bonnie said. She looked right into Marceline’s face again, and Marceline couldn’t force down a smile. ‘I feel like I have to be responsible all the time, like I’m always the one taking care of other people. I’ve had to grow up so fast and I feel like I’ve missed out on having any fun. But I don’t feel like that when I’m with you. I feel like we’re just two stupid kids. I can be comfortable with you. You should know how much I appreciate that.’ Her voice was soft and careful, like the fresh snow falling and arranging itself over delicate earth. Marceline could feel her stomach tie itself in knots.

‘Are you calling me a stupid kid?’ Marceline asked. Bonnie laughed. There were few things better than making Bonnie laugh.

‘You know what I mean! When I’m with you I feel like I don’t have to be in control anymore. You make me realise it’s okay for things to go wrong. Sometimes it’s okay to let go of the world and just enjoy something for what it is.’

Marceline was listening carefully; Bonnie was rarely so articulate with how she felt. She wondered if she had been drinking, but Marceline couldn’t smell alcohol on her at all. Plus when Bonnie got drunk she couldn’t sit still and right now she was sitting by Marceline’s side like a statue, waiting. Waiting for what, Marceline had no idea.

She breathed out slowly and steadily in the hopes it might slow down her heartbeat. This was going to be hard. This felt like putting one foot over the edge of a cliff, blindly hoping the wind would catch you and stop you from falling. ‘I have to tell you something, but I’m scared,’ she said. Like a knife in the ribs. Marceline admitted to being scared.

‘You can tell me anything.’

‘I don’t want it to change the way you look at me. You’re the best friend I have and I don’t want to ruin that.’

‘Marcy, we’re going to be friends for the rest of our lives, no matter what happens,’ Bonnie said. It was oddly optimistic for Bonnie, usually so set on truth and science. Marceline hoped more than anything that she was right.

She hesitated. Starting to go green from fear. It was time to stop overthinking it.

‘I like you, Bonnie. I really like you. I can’t stop thinking about you.’

Bonnie didn’t say anything. The moon drifted behind a cloud and the saturated shadow obscured her eyes. Marceline had no idea what she was thinking. In that moment, it felt like the Earth had shattered. Like the glass they stood on and walked on for most of their day was now in shards, priceless diamonds at their feet, obliterated by her confession. Marceline felt tears well up in her eyes. She had ruined everything. The fountain trickled away through the silence.

‘Shit. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Bonnie—’

Bonnie reached up and touched Marceline’s cheek, brushing the tracks of the tears with her thumb.

‘Oh, Marcy,’ Bonnie said in a whisper that made Marceline want to melt.

Bonnie kissed her.

Marceline felt her whole body light up like fire, racing over her in every hair, her blood burn hot and run thick and fast through her. She kissed her back, tightening her grip on the edge of Bonnie’s shirt, knuckles just grazing the soft skin of her stomach. How many times had she dreamt of this before going to sleep, for hours on end or in passing through the day? It was like her mind died in the heat of fevered reality and her body lived on, thrilled, disbelieving. Bonnie gasped when Marceline kissed her harder. It was the sweetest thing. 

‘I like you too,’ Bonnie said.

Something warm and good spread through Marceline’s ribcage. The ecstasy of her new freedom, the power within every cell in her body. It was too soon to say love, but Marceline knew that eventually it would be easy to say she loved Bonnie, she would admit it in the flaming sunlight or in the freezing rain, over and over again.

Marceline rested her head on Bonnie’s shoulder. It felt like a fight was over. They had won.

They sat wrapped up together, wondering if they were dreaming. Marceline didn’t see the point in dreaming anymore. She wouldn’t want to go to sleep for weeks. Being alive in that moment was better than anything else. She was glad to exist. She breathed in slowly, appreciating the familiar way Bonnie smelt. But something wasn’t right… Something minty and fragrant, and suddenly it hit her:

‘Bonnie, have you been smoking pot?’


	6. Chapter 6

Bonnie laughed out loud and told Marceline about finding Finn and Phoebe in the house whilst searching for her. Even laughing was better than it had been before. This feeling was completely new. The destruction of the wall between them, the explicit acceptance of the ongoing subtext of almost everything they did together. The boundary had fallen, Bonnie could now do things she was not bold enough to have ever seriously thought of doing before. She reached up and touched Marceline’s neck. Gently her fingertips skirted over the edge of her collar, over her skin as she listened to Marceline almost shiver with delight with each minute touch. But her fingers noticed something missing.

‘What happened to your earring?’

She brushed the hair over Marceline’s ear. It was not possible to count the amount of times she had seen Marceline’s hair falling loose and wanted to do that. Now she _could._ It felt surreal.

‘It’s fine. I’ll just make another one,’ Marceline said. Bonnie pulled her as close as she could and closed her eyes. This was the feeling she would imagine when she was alone, the warmth of having someone else there, of having _Marceline_ there. The satisfaction. Completion.

‘You’re so lovely,’ Bonnie said.

‘Shut up!’ hissed Marceline. She was smiling.

They were both so engrossed in the presence of the other that neither of them noticed the music stopping in the background. Bonnie noticed, however, when Lady appeared through the gate in the hedges. She was wearing Jake’s jacket but no shoes or socks, and was clearly quite worked up about something. With difficulty, Bonnie separated herself from Marceline. The minute they were apart, all Bonnie could think about was being together again. She had no idea how incredible it was not to be lonely. At least it was Lady—they could have been interrupted by someone much worse.

‘Marceline you are in so much trouble! The Jessops are on the driveway and they’re threatening to call the police!’ she squealed. Bonnie panicked. Lady only squealed if something was really wrong.

‘Why?’ Bonnie asked. She immediately knew Marceline’s stakes. Her parents would go wild, Marceline would at the very least barely be allowed out the house for the summer. Hudson could overreact. More than pitying Marceline Bonnie was being selfish. She couldn’t imagine how dull the holidays would be without her. They could even go out… on a _date_ …

‘Because Marceline and Eleanor broke into their garden and covered Lydia in ketchup. Why didn’t you take pictures?’

‘It would have ruined the moment,’ Marceline replied with her snide smirk. Bonnie had no idea how she was so calm.

‘How do they know it was Marceline?’ Bonnie asked.

‘Lydia found one of your earrings,’ Lady told them, ‘Now she and her Dad want to find you and make you apologise or they’ll tell your parents and the school.’

‘I swear she hates my guts.’

‘Why?’ Bonnie asked.

‘I’m not sure… something about the exploding cake at our year eleven dance… also I just covered her in ketchup, so—’

‘Right. Do they know we’re here?’

‘Depends if Eleanor can keep her fat mouth shut,’ Lady said. Marceline groaned, putting her face in her hands. Lady gave them a second look. Even drunk she was perceptive. ‘What are you two doing here? Were you guys…?’

‘Marcy, did you say Eleanor put all the clothes and masks and stuff covered in ketchup in Brad’s car?’ Bonnie asked.

‘Well, yeah—’

‘And that Brad dumped Eleanor for a girl named Melissa?’

‘Yeah, why? What are you doing?’

‘Handling it.’ Bonnie had already formulated a plan. Like she had when Marceline got her Art coursework stolen two years ago by her dickhead ex-boyfriend who sold it to pay for a new car. Like she had when Finn had gotten his hand stuck in a jam jar and he needed it off in fifteen minutes for a football match. Or like almost any other time Marceline had gotten herself into trouble without thinking of how she was going to get out of it. Bonnie adored being in charge.

‘Lady, you and Jake get Eleanor and make sure she doesn’t tell the Jessops it was Marceline. Bring Eleanor to the garage, and make sure she gets Brad’s keys. Marcy, your motorbike is parked up the driveway, right?’

‘Yeah, I hid it so no drunk idiot tried to ride it or something,’ Marceline replied. As soon as Lady was back through the house, Bonnie grabbed Marceline’s wrist and started dragging her around the house, back to the window by the library.

‘Okay, that’s fine. I’m going to need your other earring, by the way,’ she said.

‘Whatever,’ Marceline said. They stopped outside the window, still open, the house dark inside. ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘Hm, I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll just look at you a bit longer and hope I figure it out. If we move our faces a bit closer I could think of it quicker,’ Bonnie said. Marceline grabbed her by the waist and kissed her.

‘Don’t be sarcastic. That’s my thing.’ And with that, they climbed in through the window.

Bonnie knew the way to the garage: she had scoped it out on her search earlier. The door was unlocked. Lady and Jake were already inside, Eleanor sitting in a chair like a captive. She was crying. Again. 

‘It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it! Please don’t hurt me!’ she wailed.

‘Did you tell the Jessops that Marceline’s here?’

Eleanor wriggled in her chair, her face red from crying. ‘No!’

‘And you didn’t tell them it was you or Marceline?’

‘No! But Lydia Horse-Face thinks it was us anyway! I don’t know what to do!’

‘That’s fine because Bonnie does,’ Marceline said. Bonnie tried not to stare at her. It would be a dead giveaway to Lady and Jake; they were suspicious anyway. It just wasn’t quite time to tell them yet. Even so, all Bonnie really wanted to do was kiss Marceline again. ‘Do you want to get back at Brad?’

‘Yes! He broke my stupid heart with his stupid face and his stupid words and his stupid perfect bone structure!’ Eleanor said.

‘Perfect. Take it away, Bonnibel,’ Marceline said.

‘Listen up, everyone. The Jessops might call the police soon, so we’re running out of time. Here’s what’s going to happen.’

Once briefed, Jake, Lady and Eleanor all disappeared back to the driveway with Marceline’s second earring and Brad’s car keys. Marceline held Bonnie back, just to kiss her again in private.

‘See you in a minute,’ Marceline said. Bonnie let go of her hand and followed the others.

On the driveway were Lydia Jessop, her father, and her two friends. Lydia looked very angry and very much like someone who would demand to see the manager if they had been give one too many ice cubes at a restaurant. She still had ketchup in her hair. Bonnie _wished_ Marceline had taken photos.

Jake and Lady snuck off towards Brad’s car whilst Bonnie stayed with Eleanor confronting the Jessops. Mr Jessop himself was waiting frustratedly, phone in his hand.

‘Mr Jessop. It, like, totally wasn’t Marceline,’ Eleanor said. Bonnie observed from behind someone’s car, trying not to cringe at Eleanor completely overplaying it. At least Mr Jessop might just assume she was drunk.

‘Of course not. It’s _not_ the punk brat who thinks it’s funny to ruin my daughter’s tenth birthday party by putting goldfish in the swimming pool, who happens to play the guitar _and_ whose name begins with an M,’ Mr Jessop said, brandishing the earring of evidence. He either had a great memory or was deeply troubled by what happened to those goldfish. Although she hadn’t been told that story before, Bonnie was hardly surprised.

‘No! She’s not even here. Well, she was, but she went home. She was… uh… sick?’ Eleanor said. Bonnie slammed her head against the car window. This was excruciating.

Lady and Jake returned, keys in hand. ‘We did it. What next?’

Next was the distraction. This was going to be a bit more hit and miss. Lady and Jake picked up empty cans from the ground and took to the stage. Unfortunately, they were both terrible actors. Maybe even worse than Eleanor. 

‘My love,’ Jake crooned. Bonnie knew instantly this wasn’t going to work. ‘How could you do this to me? Scorn me like this? Trample on my heart like daffodils under the tread of a brand-new tractor wheel?’

‘Because!’ cried Lady, unstable on her bare feet. ‘My good fellow, I wish to break up with thee. Thou hast been good to me, my man, but there is one aspect of your person which I cannot overlook: good sire, you have a tiny—’

‘My _sandwich_!’ Jake bellowed. His voice was so low and so loud it rattled the windows of the house in their frames and made someone’s car alarm go off. The boy in the yellow jacket—the sandwich thief himself—pranced across the driveway doing cartwheels and juggling the sandwich. Lady was caught off guard as Jake sprinted towards the sandwich thief, hurled the can at his head, and wrestled him to the ground. Everyone surrounded them.

‘Mr Jessop it was Brad Cummings!’ Eleanor cried, ‘He tried to frame me because he broke up with me and regrets ever leaving such a hot piece of ass like this, but I _won’t_ take him back. Please, Mr Jessop—’

This was awful. It was the perfect opportunity, and Marceline had spotted this too. Bonnie watched her sneak up behind the cars lining the driveway and into the bushes where she had hidden her motorbike. With everyone engrossed in the fight for the sandwich and the Jessops accosting poor Brad Cummings, they easily slipped away unnoticed. 

The space between the bushes was dark. Bonnie couldn’t see a thing. ‘Marcy?’ she asked, reaching out. Marceline took her hand then kissed her, and kissed her again. Bonnie couldn’t stop laughing; Marceline kissed her cheek and her neck and her eyebrows and her nose. With every kiss Bonnie just felt happier and happier, the feeling in her chest rising up and lifting her by the waist until she was close to weightless. This feeling was new and it was incredible.

Marceline handed her the motorbike helmet and started the machine’s engine.

‘Come on, brainlord. Let’s go.’

Bonnie hated the death-trap Marceline rode around on. She was bound to get hurt sooner or later. But that night Bonnie didn’t care. She sat behind Marceline and wrapped her arms around her waist. Marceline revved the engine and pulled away through the bushes and out the driveway, headlight cutting through the dark.

As they pulled out onto the road Bonnie realised why Marceline loved her motorbike so much. Even in the dark the world felt huge, and it all felt reachable. The wind blowing into her face and tugging at her clothes was still warm from the heat of the day and full of the smell of summer. As Marceline sped up, putting them potentially moments away from death, and Bonnie’s fears went away. Even if it were irrational, even if it was stupid, the feeling she got when she was with Marceline was good enough to die for. Bonnie was so happy she didn’t care if someone shot her right then. If she could live forever in that moment then she would.

The stars wheeled above them in the blue night sky. Their distance used to make Bonnie feel so alone, so helpless, so insignificant, but as Marceline raced down the deserted country lanes Bonnie didn’t feel like that at all. How could she? Her heart was beating so hard she could hear it in her ears, and there was no one around for miles. No one knew where they were or who they were except them. They were anonymous together. She was with Marceline; Marceline was with her.

It didn’t matter where they were going. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all! Hope you enjoyed. There are plenty of things I would like to change by now but if I edit it forever I will never finish it. This is the first story I've properly completed so it's not going to be perfect! Have a good day or night wherever you are.


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